Dean juggled the information that he'd received from Becca overnight and during the next day while he changed oil on Soccer Mom's minivans as he hoped his boss would trust him enough to start doing body work because this shit was getting really annoying. Occasionally he would glare at Smitty, the senior member of the "Express Lube and Oil" crew, just hoping he'd spontaneously combust. It wasn't that Smitty was a bad guy, he was just didn't believe that a 21 year old kid who showed up out of nowhere knew what he was doing. Dean knew he could do better work that that guy, but he also knew he'd never have a chance to show it off.

He walked home, because the shop was less than a block from the house, and as much as he liked taking the Chevy out, it was better to keep her in a garage this time of year than in a parking lot with the guys he worked with.

"Hey, Dad," Dean said as he walked through the door. John was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. "What's the actual timeline of events for the case that we're working? Not just what happened, but in, like, what order?"

"Bugs at the gas station and grocery store," John replied. "That's what got my attention brought me here. Then once we got here at the town hall. Then the fire at the barn, then the mail man, then the hospital, then the other two disappeared then the thing at the school."

"Alright," Dean nodded. "So umm… I might have found someone who benefits from every single event."

"So recon went good at Becca's?" John smiled.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "You can say that. You said witches can be anyone right? Cuz Becca's mom's boyfriend is most likely getting the mail man's town council seat."

"What's that gotta do with everything else though?" John asked.

"Just the way Becca was talking," Dean said. "Everything benefited him or Becca's mom. It was kinda weird. So I looked him up. This Roger guy wants to open a new gas station. Sept the mail man, Mr. Conklin, who's on the council is the only vote holding him back. So if Roger gets his seat, he can get his gas station. 'Specially since now no one wants to go to the one where you'll liable to get stung by bees. By getting rid of the guys other family in town, kinda looks like he was trying to get rid of anyone who could pass it off on him. "

"Sounds like a good lead, but witches usually are women," John said. "Just are I've never run into a male witch. Might want to look into your little girlfriend's mom."

Dean scoffed. "No way, she's a sweet lady. Nothing about her screams 'witch' to me."

"She doesn't have green skin and mole?" John rolled his eyes. "They can be anyone Dean. And they can change their appearance, make themselves look more appealing. Not every witch is the Wicked Witch of the West; Glida the Good Witch was a witch, too, Dean."

"Yeah, but," Dean rolled his shoulders and leaned against the kitchen counter. "Their house wasn't witchy. There wasn't, like, cauldrons and bats or nothing."

"People, Dean," John rolled his eyes. "They're people. If you walked in here, would you think we were hunters? Do we have guns on the walls? Dart boards with shifters and werewolves on them? No, normal house. You don't gotta advertise your lifestyle for it to be real."

"Right," Dean nodded. "So what now?"

"Now you gotta do some more recon on the mom," John answered. "Find out what her end game is, I'll find a way to take her down."

"Right," Dean nodded. "She just seems like such a nice lady."

"Not if she's disappearing people," John shrugged.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "I'm gonna go fill Sammy in."

"Right," John said. "I'm hittin' KFC for dinner, in about an hour."


Sam sat on his bed going through his college stuff when Dean knocked and opened the door slowly.

"Hey," Sam said softly looking up. "What's going on?"

"Dad thinks Becca's mom's the witch," Dean shrugged. "I don't really know."

"Well, Dad's never liked any girl you've ever dated," Sam smirked. "That is the most inventive way he's come up with to make you break up with someone."

"Shut up," Dean shook his head. "That has nothing to do with it. I think he's gotta point, actually. If she is, though, serious hit to the sex life."

"Is that why you came in here?" Sam sighed. "Cuz I don't care about your sex life. I don't think it would be possible to care any less about your sex life."

"No," Dean smiled. "Just wanted to see what you were up to. I feel like I don't see ya anymore."

"Cuz you don't," Sam blinked. "We have different rooms, so we can actually, you know, breathe and whatever. I don't have to listen to you whisper to random girls to keep quiet cuz you're little brother's in the room."

"That was one time asshole," Dean defended. He took the chair from Sam's desk and spun it around before sitting down. "And I was drunk. That's not what I mean, anyway. I meant, like, with you being all secretive about school and whatever, we don't talk. And if you're really going off somewhere, I'm never gonna see you again."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever Mom, I'm not leaving forever. I'll just be going to college. And I'm not leaving until, like, August, so we got plenty of time for you to go through old photo albums and cry."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean chuckled. "No, like what's going on with you? You fitting in here and stuff?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Much as I usually do. I got friends and whatever."

"Girlfriend?" Dean smirked.

"Always about girls with you isn't it?" Sam blushed.

"You got a name to live up to," Dean replied smirking.

"I've gotta girl I'm talking to," Sam whispered. "We're just friends. She said she doesn't want to get too serious. She's saving herself or whatever so she doesn't want to label it. She's a sophomore and stuff so I get it. But she's nice and stuff."

"That's why you gotta go after older ladies, Sammy," Dean smiled. "Experience."

"You're gross," Sam said, blinking. "Life isn't about sex Dean. Stuff with her is really nice, there's no pressure or whatever."

Dean shrugged. "Just wanna make sure you're well-adjusted before I send you out into the world."

"I'll be fine," Sam rolled his eyes. "All this ghost hunting really set me up to be incredibly well-adjusted."

"Alright then," Dean shook his head. "What about this school thing, what are you doing with that? What are you going to study?"

"I'm thinking pre-law," Sam answered.

"Why?"

"Well, you mostly," Sam shrugged. "You're gonna get arrested for something stupid and you're gonna need a lawyer."

"Thanks," Dean rolled his eyes. "Where are you gonna do this thing?"

"Like where I'm gonna go?" Sam asked.

"South Dakota, right?" Dean said seriously. "You're gonna go to South Dakota so Bobby can keep an eye on you for me and Dad so don't gotta worry about you all the time."

Sam shook his head.

"Stanford," Sam said. "I'm gonna go to Stanford. It's the best one, really. They've got the best offer, and honestly I liked their campus the most. I just really, it felt like home. It was nice being there. I can picture myself there. I'm sending the paperwork in tomorrow on the way to school."

"Wait, when'd you go see it?" Dean demanded.

"Over the summer," Sam said chewing on his bottom lip. "While you and dad were in Wyoming, Bobby and I went to California and Michigan, checked it out before decided where I wanted to apply."

"You and Bobby," Dean scoffed and shook his head. "You took Bobby on college trips?"

"Well, if I thought you'd be cool with it," Sam shrugged. "I would have asked you. I figured you'd freak so I did it all in secret. If I knew you weren't going to tie me up and lock me in the trunk of the car for thinking about college I would have asked you to come with me."

"Sure," Dean nodded. "I'm sure you would have."

"Dean, this isn't about you," Sam sighed. "It's about my life and what I'm going to do. You got gotta get all defensive and take it personal, okay?"

"I'll try," Dean nodded. "It's just, you know, it feels… I'm not talking about my feelings. You wanna try to help with this witch thing? See if we can figure out a way to get a witch to show herself or whatever."

"Might as well," Sam shrugged. "I'm not really doing anything important. Nothing to do with my future."

"You can always just say no," Dean clenched his jaw tight and glared at Sam before standing and leaving the room.


The Winchesters decided the best way to figure out if Becca or her mom were actually the witch was to have Dean continue to poke at them until they slipped up, said something the revealed them. Dean was cool this that, anything that got him away from the pressure cooker he was living in. It wasn't going to take too much longer for John to figure out that Sam was hiding something, and if Dean knew anything, it was how much Sam hated having his privacy invaded.

The "weirdest" thing Dean could find about Becca was that she hated his amulet. She made him take it off when they were intimate but wouldn't take off her own necklace, which hung much the same way the amulet hung on Dean.

"It's cold and it hits me in the face," Becca pouted running her hand down his chest and the leather strap. "Would you like it if a tiny cold thing continuously slapped you in the chin? It's distracting."

"If I'm taking this off, you're taking that off," Dean smirked. "Only fair."

"First time it hits you in the face," Becca replied.

"My brother gave me this," Dean said, trying to stop her as she pulled it off over his head and tucked it in his front pocket.

"My mom gave me mine," Becca replied. "She's got one just like it that she got from her mom. Mine's special too, but it doesn't hit you in the face when we're sleeping together, so I'm not taking it off."

"What is it?" Dean asked. He tried to touch it, but Becca slapped his hand away. It looked like a little crescent moon.

"Something my grandma picked out when she was little," Becca shrugged. "I didn't ask for a history lesson, it's just something that our family does when a girl turns 13. Don't you have family traditions?"

Dean half smiled and shrugged. Maybe at one point they did, but they were lost years ago, burned up in a fire one cold night in November.

In the end though, Dean would live with not wearing his amulet for an hour if it meant having Becca do the things she liked to do to him; but it did make him think about Becca's silver pendant that lay between her breasts.


"What's it look like?" John demanded when Dean replied the information about the necklaces.

"Like a moon," Dean repeated. "Fingernail moon."

"A fingernail moon?" John sighed. "What the fuck is a fingernail moon?"

"You know," Dean drew a backward C in the air. "A fingernail moon, looks like a fingernail."

"A crescent moon?" John sighed.

"If that's what a fingernail moon is called, then yeah," Dean shrugged. "I don't know spacy- astrological crap. She said her mom and her grandmother have them too. So that might be a witch thing."

"Could be," John nodded. "I've seen stuff like that before."

"So what now?" Dean asked. "It's not like I can just be like 'Hey, Becca, is your mom a witch?' I don't think that would go over well."

"We confront them," John smirked. He flipped the shotgun he was cleaning closed with a snap. "Figure out what's going on."

Dean nodded. He wasn't too sure about this, wasn't sure if he was missing a huge piece of information or if he was just slow to catch on to what his dad had already figured out.

"Sam!" John bellowed, his deep voice echoing in the house. "Get your ass down here we need you."


Dean drove them to Becca's house in the Impala and was about to get out and the walk down the front walk and knock on the door when John grabbed his shoulder to stopped him.

"No," John shook his head. "Go around back. We're gonna do some spying."

"Illegal," Sam coughed.

"Sam," John said in a warning tone.

"I'm not about to Peeping Tom Dean's girlfriend," Sam rolled his eyes.

John handed Dean a pair of binoculars.

"When the cops come by," Sam said. "I'm saying you kidnapped me. That you took me when I was a baby and forced me into a life of crime."

"Sam," John said, teeth clinched tightly.

"You made me come with you," Sam shrugged. "You don't need me. You've done fine on these things for years without me."

"You're asking for backhand, boy," John said glaring over the bench seat to where Sam had laid himself out in the backseat.

"Go right ahead," Sam shrugged.

"Stop," Dean said quietly. "Let's just get this job done. You can fight later."

"I'm gonna go around back of the house," John said. "See what I can see. I want you to watch the front. Sam, I brought you here to be the lookout. Think you can handle it?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

"Excuse me," John said, like he was expecting Sam to do what Dean always did, straighten his back and say a "Sir, yes Sir" but Sam would never give him that satisfaction.

"I said yeah," Sam repeated a little bit louder. "I can handle it."

John shook his head and popped the door open. Both boys watched as their father walked through the shadows to the back of the house.

"Can you just fake it?" Dean said when John disappeared into the darkness. "Just play nice for a little bit. He won't be as bad if you just give him what he wants."

"Dad always says respect has to be earned," Sam shrugged, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket so he could read the book he brought in the dark. "Two way street."

Dean sighed and put the binoculars to his face. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, he didn't think that Becca or her mom would be in full view of the street in robes and pointed hats brewing potions in the kitchen. Dean's cell phone rang in his pocket, his dad's voice came across the line.

"Get back here," John whispered. "I think we got 'em."

"Right," Dean answered. He pressed the end button and tossed the phone over the seat to Sam. "If anything weird happens, call Dad."

"Right," Sam nodded not moving to pick up the phone that lay between his knees or looking up from his book.

"Sammy," Dean sighed. "Keep me alive, please, I'm serious."

"I will!" Sam groaned looking up. "I've been a lookout before freak, I can do it."

"Thank you," Dean nodded before getting out of the car and following the path is father took to the back of the house. "What we got?"

"Look," John pointed at the back sliding glass door. Becca's mom was stirring something in a big pot on the stove, reading out of what looked like an old leather bond book.

"She's cookin' dinner," Dean replied. "Not that weird, Dad. It's seven o'clock at night."

"You see what she's putting in there," John said. "She ain't making soup."

Dean looked closer, but honestly couldn't see what his dad was talking about. It just looked like a regular kitchen.

"That book," John said as Dean studied the scene. "It ain't no cook book. It's a book a spells. I've seen one like it before, way back. That's old magic, Dean, real old magic. She's mixing up something witchy."

"Right," Dean nodded, trying to sound like he understood.

"Follow my lead," John instructed.

Dean followed his dad as he crept toward the house. Dean stayed in a bush next to the door as John pushed his way in. Dean didn't want to move, didn't want Becca or her mom to think that Dean was some kind of criminal breaking into their house, so he waited until he heard his dad say something that would make him believe his dad was right, before moving. When he heard gunshots, which was as good a sign as any, he jumped out of his hiding spot and headed inside the quiet, normal looking suburban home. He saw his dad pressed up against a wall, Becca's mom standing across the kitchen with her hand raised.

"Oh," Becca's mother smiled turning to Dean. "This is your doing. You brought a hunter into my house."

"Don't touch him," John rasped, like he was being chocked.

Becca appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room; the two locked eyes for a moment before Becca turned to her mom and said. "Just put him down, Annette, it's not like he can actually hurt us."

Annette lowered John back to the ground. He placed his hands on his knees gasping for breath.

"Thought you'd work it out," Becca smiled wickedly. "All those questions. You might not be the brightest bulb but I figured you'd have someone to help you put the pieces together."

"What?" Dean said dumbfounded.

"Asking about what was going on around here," Becca's evil smile grew larger as she walked toward him. "I thought I threw you off with all the Roger talk, but looks like your dad is smarter than that. Was trying to get me to take my necklace off his idea too? Is that how you figured it out?"

"Yes," John coughed. Dean stood frozen, wide eyed. "That's how I got it."

"I… I…" Dean's eyes flicked form John to Becca. "But… you…I… you… we… but you're…"

"Spit it out baby," Becca said, running a finger up the side of Dean's face.

"How long have you been at this?" John asked, finally regaining his air.

"A while," Annette answered. "You're the first to catch on though. Been demolishing towns like this one for centuries."

"Centuries?" Dean couched.

"Should have split up the bug infestations," John smirked. "That's how I picked up the scent. Y'all got sloppy."

"Centuries?" Dean said a little bit louder this time.

"If no one's ever caught on, why the up the body count?" John asked leaving Dean's unanswered.

"Bored," Becca shrugged. "Needed some liver for the pantry. And poor Mr. Conklin was just so nosey. Then his niece and nephew weren't going to give up until they found him. And, well, you know, you can never have enough fingernails and human skin lying around."

"Gross," Dean sighed.

"You were gonna look really pretty on our wall too," Annette smile toward Dean. "Too bad you had to ruin it all."

Dean lost control over his body as Annette raised her hand again, this time throwing both Dean and John against the wall.

"Now where just going to have to get rid of you," Annette shrugged.

Becca and her mom both walked toward the Winchesters, Annette was carrying a very large knife, running it up and down Dean's arms.

The sound of gun fire filled the room. None of the bullets hit anyone, just the cabinets over the sink. Sam was standing in the doorway, gun pointed away from everyone.

"Let them go," Sam's eyes were focused on Becca.

"Aww," Becca turned. "Wittle Broder came to help out."

Sam aimed the gun at Becca and pulled back the hammer. "I'll shoot you."

"Sammy," Dean gasped trying to pull himself off the wall. "Just get out."

Annette turned her attention to Sam as well, leaving Dean and John to fall back to the floor. John grabbed the strap of Dean's amulet and nodded toward the women. Dean nodded, knowing what he had to do. He pulled the knife he kept sheathed on his ankle and slowly stood up.

"You don't mess with my family," Sam said, an eerie calm over his face. "Cuz I will end you."

Dean slipped his knife carefully up Annette's back and slices the leather of her necklace, John mimicked Dean with Becca.

Becca let out a blood curdling scream. She tried to run toward Sam as her skin started to turn a disgusting shade of gray and her dark hair turned white and started to fall out. Annette became a pile of ash on Dean's shoes before he could comprehend what was happening.

"Sammy," John ran toward the boy who was slowly lowering his raised arm. He pulled Sam into a hug while Dean stared at Becca as she decomposed in front of his eyes. She lay on the floor as a shriveled corpse.

"What the fuck," Dean let out a long slow breath then yelled. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

"Witches," John let go of Sam and turned around shaking his head. "Nasty bitches, I warned you."

"I had…" Dean felt physically sick looking at what remained of Becca. "I had sex with that."

"You did say you liked older women," Sam laughed.

"Not funny," Dean said eyes still wide with horror.

"We gotta get outta here," John announced. "That many gun shots someone's gonna call the cops."

John stepped over the body and the ash on the floor to the back door, slipping out like he'd slipped it. Dean stood frozen until Sam grabbed his arm.

"Come on," Sam urged. "Don't need you getting' arrested now."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. He turned and followed Sam out into the darkness.